


Chase Down the Lights

by cereal



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cereal/pseuds/cereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jealousy, or the lack of it, a wall, and the Doctor and Rose, welcoming a new year in Pete's World.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chase Down the Lights

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of a gentlewomen's agreement (cough, _bribe_ , cough) with [callistawolf](http://www.whofic.com/viewuser.php?uid=16279). She asked for smut, Ten or Tentoo and Rose, with a jealous and/or possessive Doctor, and possibly a wall. I think I hit them all, ish. With a side of ringing in the new year!
> 
> * * *

She'd been trying to get a rise out of him.

Maybe not a literal one, not trapped like they were at the annual Tyler New Year's Eve party, but a figurative one. One that spoke to adrenaline, excitement, the breaking of routines. 

Not that she was unhappy with the routine, with their _life_ , because she wasn't, not really, it was still full of unpredictability and adventure and rushing headlong into danger three times before tea.

Except where it wasn't.

It was a happy problem to have -- a relationship so solid that she had time to think up ways to ruffle it. Not a lot, of course, not meaningfully, and she certainly didn't miss the way they used to be, tiptoes and lines and so many rules, but keeping things fresh, keeping that little spot of uncertainty, well, that was a normal human desire, wasn't it?

And they were both human.

Or human _enough_ , in the Doctor's case.

It was just -- it wouldn't kill him to be a little jealous now and then, would it? A little bit less self-assured? She felt horrible for thinking it, for missing the anguish and the possessiveness, the snarking and the longing. Oh, the _longing_. Something to be said for a good longing, for wanting something so damn much that the getting it was that much sweeter.

Now she'd got everything she could possibly want, and sometimes it felt just a little too easy. In her worst moments, the ones she regretted as soon as they were over, it felt just a little boring, too.

If she wanted to lick the curve of his jaw, she did. If he wanted to stare at her breasts, he did.

It was comfortable and effortless, and sometimes spending 20 minutes in her knickers only meant she couldn't find something to wear. There was variety, of course there was variety, waking slow in the morning, coaxing and kissing and snoozed alarm clocks. A wandering hand during a movie on the sofa, fingers dancing under the table at a dinner with her family, they had fun -- why wouldn't they? They were _them_.

But she knew his body, knew the movements of his tongue, the half-lidded look in his eye, grunts and groans and his face when he came. She was thrilled to know those things, never thought in a million years, a million planets, that she'd get that chance, she was just -- well, she was being ridiculous.

Never stopped her before.

Tonight, though, that was a spur of the moment thing. Greg had been standing by the punch bowl, talking with a bloke she recognized from the Vitex board, and he'd given her such a wide, easy grin that it had been natural to come over and chat. He was a good-looking bloke, handy with a computer, and seeing him at the water cooler in the Torchwood break room always led to a laugh.

She thought he might fancy her a bit, the way you fancied someone you only saw during business hours, the sort of attraction brought on by boredom and close quarters. It was flattering and fun and in a different life, she'd probably have pursued it. Tall and thin, a nice head of hair, and even in that different life, she definitely had a type.

Flirting without intent, that was what it was. The Doctor practically invented that game, and she was sure, on more than a few planets, he actually did.

Greg had refilled her drink, told her a story about his dog that had her chuckling, and made her promise him a dance later. That had been it, nothing out of the ordinary. But standing here now, with the Doctor, she thought she'd give it a little spin.

"I'm gonna dance with Greg later," she said, voice trailing off.

The Doctor shrugged, nodding. "I'm gonna fuck you later."

And that was it, that was always it. A sort of nonchalance, a sense of security that had her itching to rock the boat. It should be thrilling, that sentence from him, but sometimes, like now, it just felt normal. She had reveled in that, for a while, the normalcy, but the thought of it for the rest of her life, while usually comforting, occasionally chafed.

"Are you?" And she tried with her tone to get him to expand, to seduce her, to make it seem like a challenge, even if it never really was.

He glanced at her, an amused smile on his lips. "Of course, new year, gotta start if off right." He grinned then, a charming, easy thing, and she could almost predict the next few minutes.

"You know," he said, right on schedule, "on Mawkorian 3, the first person you touch in the new year is the person you spend that year with. Of course, their year is only two Earth weeks long, so it's not much of a commitment, but still, can you imagine if I accidentally touched your _mother_? Two weeks cooped up with Jackie Tyler?" He visibly shuddered.

A few moments later, a tray of nibbles passed by too quickly and he shot her another grin, chasing after the waiter.

Well, so much for that. Of course she was going to fuck him later, that was what they _did_. And did it ridiculously well, even. But she could use a little bit of the chase. She didn't need him to chuck Greg from the doors of a spaceship or anything, but asserting a claim wouldn't go unappreciated.

God knew _she_ did it enough. For every ten people with a set of working eyes, there was always one that directed them at the Doctor. And she felt a certain amount of pride, sweeping up next to him, a well-placed hand and a polite smile, he was _hers_ , and she made it known.

The Doctor, though, seemed to have misplaced his, well, his jealousy. She hadn't known Donna for long, but she seemed like a bit of a firecracker herself, and still somehow, crossed with the Doctor's own spark, it had all canceled out. A negative times a negative equals a positive, and the Doctor now smiled blithely at blokes in pubs and their eager offerings to her.

It wasn't worth it to dwell, though; it felt ungrateful and horrible, and she wasn't going to allow herself to be that type of person. Not for very long, at least. With a definitive draining of her drink, she set off across the floor. It was Tony's first year staying up until midnight and she wanted to make sure he made it.

A little while later, and they were only a half hour outside of midnight. She had plied Tony with biscuits and a Vitex, laughing happily as he pinballed around the room. He should just about make it to the new year before the sugar had him crashing. The Doctor, too, was a little manic, but that was typical, and she watched as they played spaceships with empty bottles of champagne.

Greg joined her in her spot at the edge of the dance floor, nudging her with his elbow. "Which of them will drop one first?"

Rose made a show of squinting, sizing up the situation. "Tough to say, Tony's hands are smaller, but the Doctor's had his in the chips." She rubbed her fingers together. "Might be a little greasy."

Greg laughed. "Should we have that dance now, then? Before we have to have it around broken glass?"

She nodded and followed Greg as he walked out to the floor. He held her loosely, plenty of room between them, and they began to dance, a Sinatra song she only vaguely recognized playing. It felt odd, he was the same build as the Doctor, but his hands were thicker, rough in the wrong places, and he smelled different, sportier somehow.

He was telling her about a concert he planned to go to the following weekend when a flash outside the far window caught her attention. She instinctively braced for a bang, thinking it was fireworks, but there was no sound, only a second brief burst of light.

"Did you see that?" she asked, gesturing with their joined hands at the window.

"See what --" he started to say, but another flash cut him off. "Ah. What was that?"

The light started again, several blinks in rapid succession now before dimming. A few of the other guests had glanced at the window, but none of them seemed interested, and they all turned back to their conversations.

"What do you think?" Greg asked. "Should we check it out?"

Rose looked for the Doctor and caught him flipping the champagne bottle in the corner, like some sort of '80s bartender, Tony rushing to mimc him. It was probably nothing, the lights, and so she shrugged and agreed.

"Sure, let's go."

There wasn't a door on that side of the house, so they left through the front, sticking close to the building as they made their way around the corner. The lights from inside were just enough to see a few feet in front of them, and as they crept along, Rose flexed her hand a few times -- it felt weird to have both of them free with this sort of thing. Not that she wanted to hold Greg's hand, not at all, but maybe she should have grabbed the Doctor before she left.

The light flashed again and they darted toward it, it bounced in the air a few times and then disappeared around another corner. It didn't seem like anything serious, no pinpricks on the back of her neck, but there was still a pulse of adrenaline as they took off toward it again, faster this time. She could see Greg next to her, the fluid run of someone who did it for fun, too, not just adventuring, and her hand tingled once more.

"It went that way!" Greg shouted as they rounded the next corner, pointing toward her parents' garden. She changed course, rushing to follow Greg as he took off through the grass.

The light was constant now, bouncing in the air. There was a dark blotch underneath it, silhouetted against the moonlight, and it looked like limbs. A person?

"Stop!" she yelled at the figure, legs pumping harder to catch up. The light skittered to a halt and Greg reached it a moment before she did, barreling into it and knocking it to the ground.

The thing attached to the light hollered, a string of obscenities that were slightly slurred. It struggled against Greg's weight, pinned to the ground and it was -- _Jake_?

"Jake! What the hell? Greg, get up, get up," Rose said, nudging at his shoulder until he stood.

Jake rolled over, the light following him, attached to a small headlamp. He was clutching his nose, and panting.

"That's cheating, you two! You can't tackle!" Jake said, climbing to his feet. "And where are your torches? Is my nose bleeding? My nose is bleeding. No one's going to want to kiss the bloke with the bloody nose, aw, man!"

Greg looked from Jake to Rose and back again, beginning to laugh. "Are you drunk? Are you drunk and playing _torch tag_?"

Jake looked surprised. "Of course I am! What the hell are you two doing?" He looked over their shoulders and his eyes widened before he put his hands up, shouting again. "No, no, no! Time out! It doesn't count!"

Rose turned to see the rest of the Torchwood field team crossing toward them, headlamps bouncing as they walked.

"You lost anyway," Beth said, laughing. "Come on, let's go back to the house, get you cleaned up."

They turned, heading toward the back door this time. It swung open just as they reached it, laughing and shoving at each other. The Doctor rushed out, taking in the group, his eyes darting across flushed faces and Jake's bloody nose.

"Rose?" he said, looking confused and -- hurt?

"Go on ahead, guys," she said, gesturing toward the door.

They trooped in obediently, Jake telling Greg that if no one else would kiss him at midnight, Greg was going to have to do it, and the voices cut off as they shut the door behind them.

"Where did you go?" the Doctor said, glancing around the yard, looking for clues. "You were dancing with Greg, and then you were just...gone."

Rose waved her hand in the air dismissively. "There was a light, we followed it."

The Doctor pursed his lips, trying to put everything together. "You -- you went off after a light? Without me?"

She very nearly dismissed him again, but something in his voice pulled her up short. He sounded _jealous_.

"It was nothing," she said. "Just the team messing around."

He stepped closer to her, "But you didn't _know_ that. Could have been anything, could have been aliens or thieves or poisonous gases and you went _without me_." The last was ground out between his teeth as he fixed her with a pointed look. "You went _with Greg_."

A tiny, bright part of her latched onto this tone, flickering in her chest, while the rest of her felt annoyed. She was a trained field agent at a party at her parents' house. There was hardly any danger.

"Yeah, Greg who works with me. At _Torchwood_ , where we do that for a living," she said.

Honestly, what was his problem?

"But _we_ do that, Rose, for _fun_ ," he said. "This wasn't work, and I was right there."

This -- _this_ is what wound him up? The threat of danger by someone else's side?

"Oh, fine," she said, throwing her hands up. "Next time I see a wobbly light out the window, you'll be first on the list. Happy?"

He moved closer again, only a few inches separating them now. She could smell him, the spicy sweetness of his cologne, a hint of champagne on his breath.

"Well, I don't know," he said, and she stood her ground at the rumble in his voice. "Usually that sort of thing gets the adrenaline going. Were you gonna work that off with Greg, too?"

She shoved at his chest, but he didn't move, solid and unyielding under her fingertips. "Of course not. You're being ridiculous."

His hands landed on her waist, backing her up toward the wall next to the door.

"Am I?" he said as her back met brick, cold and rough through the thin fabric of her dress.

She nodded, but the movement was stilted, broken off as he slid his knee between her legs and pressed forward into her.

"That's you," he growled, dropping his head to nip at her jaw. "You make me ridiculous."

Her hands found the collar of his shirts. He'd forgone the jacket tonight, a jumper over a button up and tie instead, and she skirted her fingers under the edge of it, pulling the tie free of the jumper.

"Oh, I think you're plenty ridiculous," she said, smoothing the tie down across his chest, "All on your own."

His hands tightened on her waist before skating down the swell of her hips and around to the curve of her bum, "I'm ridiculous? Who was it that went chasing after lights without the best light-chaser in two universes?"

She smiled at him then, tongue touching the corner of her mouth, "Best 'light chaser?' That's your pitch?"

He angled his hips forward, rocking into her, " _That's_ my pitch."

It was exciting, the noise of the party behind her, the Doctor in front of her, all riled up, exactly like she'd wanted, and she felt a swell of affection for him. How could she possibly have thought things were getting routine? She couldn't even predict what would make jealous with any accuracy.

But it was also cold, and not too far from midnight, "Save it for the new year, boss," she said with a grin, trying to move from the wall. He kept her pinned there, hands coming up to cage her body against the brick.

"I think we should close this one out properly first, don't you?" He dropped his head close to hers, nudging her nose with his own. "Don't want your last adventure to have been with _Greg_ , do you?"

She shoved at his chest, but there wasn't any force behind it. It didn't seem like a terrible idea, all things considered. She had stockings and suspenders on, wouldn't even need to take them off, just shove her dress up a little bit, move her knickers and -- no. No, that was mental. They were only a few feet from the door and she looked at it meaningfully, trying to get him to let them back inside.

"Ah, right," he said, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "Should probably get around a corner at least."

He eased up, freeing her, but grabbed her hand swiftly, taking her away from the door. "Come on," he said. "Show me where these lights were."

Maybe if she indulged him a bit, a tiny little snog, he'd get it out of his system, and they could go back in the house. It was almost time to ring in the new year and afterward the guest room was made up for them. The one on the other side of the building from everyone else.

Tugging her along with his hand, he pulled her toward the corner of the house. She could see the window now where Jake's light had first appeared.

"It was right there," she said, pointing toward it.

He nodded. "Good, good. And how did it make you feel? All that mystery, the dark of night? Were you excited?"

She shook her head, "Didn't have time to be excited. The light started moving, we chased it."

Stopping a few feet from the window, he pulled her back against the wall, the same position as before.

"There was a _chase_?" he said, and his knee came between her legs again, his trainers nudging her feet into a wider stance.

"Yeah," her voice was lower, quieter, as he dropped his head to her neck, kissing a line up her throat. "Missed your hand, actually, felt weird to run without holding on to someone."

She felt his lips curve into a smile again her skin, "This hand?" he said and dropped it to her hem, skating his fingers across her thigh, the top of her stockings, before bunching up the fabric of her dress in his grip.

She nodded again, tilting her head back to give him better access. All right, so maybe not a _quick_ snog.

"Or was it _this_ hand?" he said, bringing his free one up to cup her breast, the thin material of her dress and the bra underneath doing nothing to hide the way her nipple hardened beneath his fingers.

"Both," and she was trying to arch into him, get him to move, anything.

"Both?" He said, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear. "That's not right. We don't run with _both_ hands held. Was it this one?" His fingers edged up along the lines of her suspender, meeting the belt that held it fastened. "Or this one?" He squeezed her breast again, before moving to suck on her earlobe.

"Either," she said this time, and he pulled back to grin at her.

"Either, that's more like it." He leaned in to kiss her properly, tongue sliding by her lips as she opened under him easily. There was a rhythm to it, the familiarity of kissing someone you've kissed a thousand times before, but there was the brick against her back, the feel of his fingers in the cold air; it felt new.

The hand on her leg swept inward, dancing along the edge of her knickers. "I'm going to make you see more lights, Rose Tyler. Lights and stars, make you scream."

She moved her hands to his head, hair sliding between her fingers as she angled to kiss him again, tongues and teeth and his mouth wet and hot against hers. He didn't stay there for long though, a tug at her lower lip and he was moving once more, nose nudging the strap of her dress aside. He sucked at the join of her neck and shoulder, tongue smoothing over the spot as his hand dropped to join the other in lifting her dress.

"We are _not_ doing this," she said, but it sounded more like a moan, and she arched her hips away from the wall, to help him get the dress up higher. He tucked it up into the small belt high on her waist, the one the lady at the store told her would help define her figure.

"Oh, I think we are," he said, one of his fingers sliding under the suspender holding her stocking up, snapping it back against her skin. It stung a little in the cold air and she groaned at the feeling.

He pinned her to the wall with his hips, and if he would just press _lower_ \-- oh god, there it was -- and then moved his hands to his belt, haphazardly tugging his jumper and shirt up to get at the fastening. His fingers stumbled and she brought hers to help, swiftly undoing the belt and the button of his trousers before dipping lower, to where he was straining against the zip.

His hands slipped up, palming and playing idly with her breasts, but his eyes were focused on her hands, the fingers she was tracing him with.

"This is mental," she said, working the zip down slowly, carefully.

"This is an _adventure_ ," he answered, voice hitching as his head lolled back briefly on his neck.

His trousers were too tight, staying up on their own, and she hooked her thumbs into the waistband, shoving them down. He thrust toward her once, the material of his boxer briefs tented blatantly as he brushed her knickers, but it seemed silly to keep his pants on, and then she was grabbing those, too, manuevering them down gently to join his trousers at his knees.

"A _mental_ adventure," she said, the words bouncing as his fingers dipped beneath her knickers. He moved one lower, grazing the hair there before pressing into her.

"Is there any other kind?" He pulled back with a wide grin, and slid his finger back and forth, adding another, and sweeping his thumb down to rub at her clit.

"With you?" She arched into him, her own fingers scrambling to get a grip on his erection. "Never." The movement of his hand stopped when she wrapped her hand around him, and there was all that practice they had, put to use as she set a rhythm to provoke him.

"You love it," he growled, thrusting into her fist, before wrapping his free hand around hers on his cock, tightening, and speeding up the movement. "Tell me you love it."

She met his eye then, refusing to give in, "I'd love it if you'd hurry up and do something."

He licked his lips, stilling both of his hands for a moment, "Am I not doing something?" And then slowly, so slowly, the fingers in her knickers stroked against her. "Feels like I'm doing something."

She ground down against his hand, flexing her fingers against him as she said, "Could be doing more."

Pressing his forehead to hers and panting lightly, she felt more than saw his grin, "As always, I'm open to suggestions," he said, his breath warm on her skin as they fell back into shallow movements with their hips.

So fucking smug and she wanted to wipe that look right off his face, "Thought I was gonna be seeing lights?"

His thumb circled her clit again, pressing hard, "Are you not?"

"No." She grabbed at his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. She tried to sync the rhythms of her tongue and other hand, but it was sloppy, full of stop-starts and, _goddamn it_ , he was distracting, never settling into his own rhythm, smirking against her mouth.

Frustrated, she broke her lips from his, ducking lower to kiss his neck as he moaned low in his throat. Suddenly his hands were on her waist, the pile of fabric there, and he was pushing her back again. He swept his hands down her bum, to the backs of her thighs.

"Gonna fix that right now," he said, and urged her up. With only the slightest hesitation, she gave a little jump, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

"If you drop me, I swear to god --"

"I'm not going to drop you," he said, the rumble of his tone stoking heat in her veins. "I'm going to fuck you, just like I told you I would."

Bracing her partly against the wall, he made sure they were steady and then grabbed his erection, tugging her knickers aside and positioning himself, "You're gonna have to help though."

She twisted her hand up to the back of his head, giving a little tug at the hair there, "I always help," she said. "Who do you think those moans are for?"

He pushed into her then, face contorting as he shuddered a breathy, happy noise. "They're for you," he pulled back, "because," in again, "you're," out, "overwhelmed."

Scratching her fingers against his scalp, she tried to gain some leverage, show him exactly who was overwhelmed, but in this position, he was in control and he knew it. She settled for forcing herself to stay completely silent.

He picked up on it after only a few strokes, she _did_ usually make a lot of noise, one of the few places her gob rivaled his own. "Aw, come on, you don't want that," he said. "Let me hear you." He pinned her back against the wall more tightly and slid a hand between their chests, fingers stroking roughly at her nipple through her dress as he fastened his mouth to that place on her neck that always made her squirm. It was difficult, not saying anything, especially when his rhythm picked up, short, fast strokes with just the right amount of friction.

She bit down on her lip, screwed her eyes shut, a moan bubbling up in her throat.

"Let it out," he groaned, fingers dropping lower, over her stomach, under the waistband of her knickers, and then to where he was pushing into her, nerves and more friction and and and --

"Oh, fuck, oh, god." She couldn't bite it back in time and he smiled in triumph, a stupid, glassy-eyed thing that she kissed right off his face. She moved her hand to brush away his own, setting a more steady rhythm on her clit.

"There you go," he said. " _Helping_ , you're brilliant, Rose Tyler." And her name broke off in the middle as she dropped her fingers down, so he could feel her, too. She tightened them quickly, and he yelped, "Helping too much, _fuck_! Fuckfuckfuck --"

"Right there," she said, cutting him off. "Oh, god, yes, right there." And he kept up the pace, hands moving to her bum so he could pull himself into her more fully. They both lost all sense of finesse, sloppy strokes and grabbing hands and -- counting? They were counting down inside, voices echoing through the window, _Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen..._

He caught her eye, daring her, and she shot the same look right back. "You gonna make it, Doctor?"

His hips didn't stop, and neither did her fingers, one set curling into the fabric of his jumper, trying to stay up, the other rubbing frantically at where they were joined -- _Eight, seven, six…_

She was so close, so fucking close, and he bit her neck one last time. "Now, Rose, _now_."

_Four, three…_

And she tipped, clenching around him, her shout lost to the noise of the party, and he chased after her with a grunt in her ear as the countdown ended -- _Happy New Year!_ She continued to shudder as he pulsed inside of her and she encouraged him on, words and kisses, hands tugging at his hair.

The commotion inside the house quieted down as they stood there, hearts slowing, her head on his shoulder, and when he finally set her back to the ground, she had to laugh.

"An adventure across two different years?" she said, and he beamed proudly. "You really had something to prove, didn't you?" She nudged against him, pushing off the wall and untucking her dress from her belt.

"Proved it, didn't I?"

She reached up to smooth down his hair, but it was no use, and she grabbed his hand instead, tugging him around the corner, back to the door of the house.

"Yeah, you did," she said, and shook her head with a grin.

He squeezed her hand, and winked, leading her right past the door to the opposite wall.

"Gonna prove it again." 

* * *


End file.
